Two days in the one place and suddenly I have a local café. The food there is delicious and if you sit inside you would swear you were in a café in Fitzroy North. Scrambled tofu sit alongside muesli with wild red raspberries and coffee that packs a zing. I talk to the owner each day and bounce about the menu trying to taste all of the different treats on offer. And even thought I frequent the café three times in two and a half days I still can’t remember the name of the establishment.
I also visited a bar that I think was called the Rock Bar. It is Alice Spring’s gay bar and my friend Kylie took me there. Camp men squealed next to lesbians with haircuts that reminded me of the more interesting places on Smith St. It is a fun night and I love that it next to Bojangles, a bar that has been declared homophobic by Kylie. What a delightful revenge! Set up shop alongside the out of date establishment and throw a general sense of fabulousness their way every night. When I leave both bars are playing Powderfinger through their stereos. If only the Brisbane boys could bring these warring factions together then maybe some homophobic men could realise that hey, they just want to bang men too and everything could be fine. What was the Powderfinger song playing? Burn Your Name.
I don’t know what that means either.
24 hours after being shot in the head Osama Bin Laden no longer trends on Twitter. How this news can have fallen by the wayside quicker than the circus that was Charlie Sheen’s four-star melt down says a lot about our society. Maybe Osama should have thrown out a sweet bon mot before copping a load of lead in the face. I think he could have plagiarised Rob Sitch’s like a tiger routine from his Late Show days and really taken this to the next level. Instead all he did (according to sources) was try to shield himself from harm with a wife and then catch a bullet with his forehead. Let this be a lesson to all young artists: you’re only as good as your last meme.
I managed to accomplish no work yesterday as I became obsessed reading all the conspiracy theories going around about Osama’s last stand. My favourite is the persistent rumour that the Americans had Osama on ice for the last few years waiting for the right moment to thaw him out and claim victory. This was reported on some radio stations proving that once and for all that just because someone has a microphone that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not mental.
If this was the case why declare their hand now? Isn’t the next election next year? Surely you’d keep him on ice until you were about to launch your next campaign? Or maybe America is so broke they couldn’t afford the bill the freezer was racking up? I would guess then that with Osama’s body they’ve probably lost some sweet deer shanks as well.
I for one would like to think that the Democrats had in fact kept this under their hats all this time. It would explain why Obama never really seems unsure of himself. I would be feeling pretty cocky too if I had a terrorist popsicle that I was ready to unleash at any moment, giving the Republicans and right wing pundits an ice cream headache of Biblical proportions. It would also suggest that it only took thirty years for the Democrats to learn the lessons the Republicans dished out in ’79 when Reagan rode the release of the Iranian hostages into the White House. Am I that enamoured with the Obama administration? Not particularly but I would rather the cool guy who can tell a joke, watches The Wire and isn’t afraid to call out Kanye as the leader of the free world than some nut job who believes we live in end times and is willing to ride a nuke like a bull all the way to Armageddon. By the way I am not thinking of any Republican in particular, I’m just being a leftie racist and declaring they’re all the same to me. Which I know is intellectually incorrect but it’s my blog and I’ll shoot anyone with a musket who disagrees with me. Or at the very least block you on Twitter.
About to fly to Darwin for two nights followed by a red eye to Brisbane. Then after one day I will return to Melbourne for a brief sojourn before returning to Road Show. I am exhausted at the thought of it but will be fine once I’m up in the air pretending I’m Ryan Bingham and my tiredness will be replaced by the fun of wondering where my luggage is travelling.
When I return to Melbourne you will be able to find me at the following places: All Star Comics talking to Mitch and Troy; the Fitzroy gym where I will be desperately attempting to rediscover my fitness that I so nicely maimed during the Comedy Festival and the just turned 25 years old café Mario’s on Brunswick Street. For breakfast I will have a short black, an orange juice and poached eggs on toast with spinach, avocado and baked beans. It will be delicious.
And even though I did see other cafes behind Mario’s back I can assure them they meant nothing to me. To prove it I will send them to this blog where they can see their café is the only café one I can remember the name to.
5th of May, 2011